


Regrets

by MagnificentMir



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Everyone besides noct is just kind of background, Game Spoillers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnificentMir/pseuds/MagnificentMir
Summary: No matter how many times Noctis went back, trying to fix what was broken over and over again, nothing would change. The major events that played throughout his journey couldn’t be stopped; and oh how he had tried.
--
Really vague AU in which Noctis isn't ready to let go





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a thought I had after finishing the game and you can travel back with Umbra to explore. 
> 
> Its been a while since I've put thought into writing, so please excuse any grammar mistake or spelling errors and things of that nature. This has been looked over by a tired friend.

Noctis knows that everything that has happened is his fault, knows that the words spoken to him are lies meant to comfort him. _You couldn’t have known this would happen_ or _he was trying to protect you Noct_ and many other words of comfort swirls through his head, but they just can’t out voice what he truly thinks, _you killed your father, you let him die; Luna died because of you, you couldn’t even protect your friends._

 

Not for the first time, Noctis stands on the cliff overlooking Insomnia with the rain coming down around him in sheets. He doesn’t think this will ever get any easier, doesn’t think that the tears streaming down his face will ever stop; even if he knew this was coming, Noctis still couldn’t steel himself for the death of his father, for being unable to save him once more. A heavy hand comes to rest on his shoulder, the warmth a jarring contrast from the cold rain; Gladiolus was the one to offer his brand of silent comfort this go-around, still managing to look intimidating with obvious concern shining in his eyes. “Time to head out, let’s pick up the pieces.” _again._

  
  
No matter how many times Noctis went back, trying to fix what was broken over and over again, nothing would change. The major events that played throughout his journey couldn’t be stopped; and oh how he had tried, begging his father to listen, trying to find the soldier in Lestallum, rushing to Luna, but nothing changed. The world had a vendetta against him, no matter the precautions taken, his father still died and Jared was still taken from his grandson too soon. 

Though he did have control over one thing in this world, his friendship. Everytime he spent longer and longer relearning them, hoping to find new things about the people he grew up with. He’d indulge in Prompto’s photos and antics just a little bit more each time, having a soft spot for the energetic blond with too many secrets and a hole in his heart. Noctis needed to make sure his best friend felt loved, unable to bear the thought of Prompto’s anxiety getting to him and telling him that he didn’t belong, that he was useless, unwanted, broken. By the end of every journey, he’d have what seemed like hundreds of selfies and group photos to cherish and by the time he started over, each photo was burned into memory.

Noctis trained with Gladio in the afternoons, wanting to improve and needing to become stronger to protect the men who were supposed to protect him. It was a good energy for the both of them, kept him from fighting verbally with the tall, dark haired man; it improved their trust, Noctis able to talk to Gladio about his fears and worries and Gladio no longer having to yell and beat sense into Noctis to get his point across. They set up camp together in the night and fish together after breakfast, Noctis even letting the bodyguard reel in a catch or two..

He spent early mornings with Ignis, helping the strategist with cooking and gathering the ingredients for a recipe the older man wanted to try; occasionally even buying recipe books. He bettered his driving, getting his skills up to Ignis’ driving standards, so he could force the other to break and rest; he took him sight seeing and even got Ignis to join him and Prompto in a mid day swim at the beaches of Galdin Quay. Making sure Ignis enjoyed himself and got to see the wonders of the world were important, before he wouldn’t be able to anymore; because that is something Noctis can’t change, no matter how hard he tries.

  
  
For what feels like the hundredth time--and it probably is-- Noctis wakes from his visions of Luna, the Ring of Lucii clenched in his hand and tears making tracks down his face. His body hurts and he can already see a few bruises on his arms, though none of it hurts as bad as Luna’s death. He couldn’t save her again, he can never reach her on time and he knows that he will never stop trying. _It’s all your fault, it will always be your fault._

Noctis knows all of the this, the same way he knows that when he looks up, he’ll find Ignis hunched over a table with his usually immaculate hair disheveled and a defeated weight to his shoulders; knows that this is the part where Gladio will storm through and yell at Noctis-- _he deserves it_ \-- because he doesn’t know how to release his emotions any other way, but for this one time out of many more he wants just a few moments to themselves, wants to wrap his arms around Ignis’ shoulders and cry and apologize until the sun rises-- _he doesn’t deserve to_.

  
  
It’s not the first nor the last time Noctis will truck knee-deep through swampy, monster infested waters with Gladio still slightly steamed behind him, but every time he reaches this point, he still fears something will take out Ignis in his state-- _because every time he insists, but Ignis won’t back down, won’t stay safe_. They’ve worked it out by this point, have worked it out the last fifty times because he can’t keep taking his feelings out on Gladio, can’t continue to rile him up like the tenth or so time where he got the bodyguard to punch him; but this never becomes any easier and it never will.

Nor does watching Prompto fall from the train-- _he can’t stop that either, he’s tried and tried but Ardyn is never the one to fall no matter who he pushes_ \-- and in ways, it’s worse. He’s directly responsible and pressed for time to get him back; he’s never lost Prompto yet, but what if he comes too late, what if they torture him and he spends his last moment wondering where his best friend is, what if he turns against them, what if, what if. Leaving the others behind gets easier, putting on the ring gets easier and so does sneaking through the hallways and past the axemen, but seeing the happy-go-lucky blond beaten and battered doesn’t; watching him try to smile through the pain and reveal of his past is heartbreaking, and Noctis can’t prevent the pain Prompto feels.

  


Not for the first time, Noctis stands on the edge of their last camp with the rain plastering his clothes and dark hair to him and scratches at the stubble on his face. A bahamut prowls in front of the gates, the only thing that now stands in the way of reclaiming Lucis, of facing Ardyn and returning the light; not once has fought the large beast and he doesn’t yet plan to, doesn’t yet deserve to. Noctis will go back, try again and again until he sets things right, until he saves someone even if that means losing himself in the process.

  
Noctis goes back once more, to save someone, to see his friends happy once more, to keep himself from dying. _He doesn’t deserve happiness. Death is happiness._


End file.
